For You, I'll Be Superhuman

Liam, Louis, Harry, Niall, and Zayn all had traumatic childhood experiences. What happens when they are all connected? They join together to form a crime fighting group, and save many lives and defeat many enemies. But how can they defeat their greatest enemy yet? Will the pressure of love or the need to protect others break them? For these boys, they just want normal lives. But For You, They'll Be Superhuman.

WARNING: Foul Language


9. Chapter 7


Smoke. Dark figures. LIAM. Raquel jolts awake. She looks around. She is in a clean, clear hospital room. Her nightmare wasn't real. “Good afternoon, officer.” 2 nurses are in the room. She let out a sigh. “How are you feeling, Miss Allen?” One of the nurses asks her. “Um, ok, I guess.” She says, sitting up and wincing as the needles in her arm prick her. “You took in a lot of smoke. It's going to be at least a week before we can make sure it has cleared your system without any harmful side effects.” Raquel sighs. A week out of the force. The nurse mumbles something about a “psychologist” and leaves the room. Raquel rests her head back against the pillows and shuts her eyes. I wish this was Liam's chest, she thinks to herself. Wait. LIAM! As she jolts her upper body off the bed, the psychologist walks in. “Ms. Allen, my name is Dr. Johnson, I'm the psychologist here. I want to talk to you about what you saw last night.” Raquel sighs. The doctor, a women 40 to 50 years old with thinning blonde hair, much redder than Raquel's own hair, takes a seat in the chair beside the hospital bed. “What did you hear? The thing that caused you to run into the building, what was it?” Dr. Johnson has a pad and paper, ready to write Raquel's personal thoughts down. “It was a little girl. My sister. I heard it so clearly.” “But how could it be your sister?” “It couldn't!! But, I thought...” Raquel gets lost in her own thoughts. “You thought what?” The doctor is sitting on the edge of her seat, as if Raquel was telling some story. Can I tell her? Open myself up to the stranger? She thinks. I have to. “My little sister was kidnapped 4 years ago, when I was 16, she was 10. She was pronounced dead and her body was never recovered. I heard her scream, coming from that damned burning building, and I thought, maybe, just maybe, she was alive. That's why I went in.” Raquel's throat is chocked up with sobs. The doctor places a hand on Raquel's. “Tell me about life after her death, if you can.” Her voice is softer, a little more compassionate. Raquel dries her eyes with her shirt, and continues. “My parents lost it. They acted as if I wasn't there, as if they had lost the best thing in their life, and as if I was just another object inside our house. My father went alcoholic and he and my mother got divorced on my 17th birthday. I spent my senior year, pent up in my room, or at the library, studying. I graduated high school as salutatorian of my class. I was offered many college scholarships, but I refused all of them. I decided to go into the police force. For my sister, and to stop all other events like hers. At the academy, everyone found out I was pretty good at everything. Shooting, hands-on combat, even disarming bombs. Everyone gave me a nickname, Rock, because they say that's how I act. Rock hard, hard to move, no feelings.” She thinks back to last night at the police station. Could have only been yesterday? To Raquel, it feels like ages ago. “I was permitted to graduate early at 19 years old, and I've been in it for a year and a half. I love it. But every day, every time I walk into the station, I remember walking in when I was 16, when I was told that my sister was pronounced dead. But nobody knows. I never told my co-workers, my boss, or even my best friend. No one knows but me.” Raquel stares at the psychologist, waiting for an answer, a reaction, SOMETHING. However, the psychologist just writes some scribbles on the paper and stands up. “Miss Allen, I will be back tomorrow. You should get some sleep.” The psychologist walks out without even the courtesy of muttering goodbye. Raquel throws her head back into her pillows. Suddenly, the door is opened once again and Raquel slowly lifts her head. There is a girl, a teenager no doubt, walks into her room. She shuts the door behind her, slowly and really kind of creepily. “Get out.” Raquel says, wishing she had her pistol on her hip. “I'm from the paper.” The girl says, very meekly. “Oh, then definitely get out. I don't need this on the cover. 'Crazy police officer runs into burning building.'” She says. “No, I'm not here for that. I-” “Then what the fuck are you here for?” “My name is Natalie, I just wanted to say you aren't alone.” “About what?!” Raquel keeps getting more and frustrated. The girl hesitates, looking at the annoyance in Raquel's face. “I heard the screaming, too.” 

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